


A Far From Dull Affair

by Laurelin (Lintelomiel)



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Explicit Sexual Content, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:11:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1390696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lintelomiel/pseuds/Laurelin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Haldir is ordered to wait on the king, he is anything but pleased. But the Marchwarden does not defy given orders, and a good thing too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aronnaxs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aronnaxs/gifts).



> I spent a sunny spring Sunday writing this inexcusable piece of smut. I have never paired these two before, but this time I really wanted them to have a go at each other. If you're looking for plot and character development, I suggest you turn around, because you won't find it here. 
> 
> Aronnaxs, I know this isn't technically your ship, but I hope you'll enjoy it all the same.

Haldir's pride was hurting. No, not merely hurting, it was in tatters. If Haldir's pride were a sentient being, it would be stamping its feet and screaming in rage at this injustice, this... humiliation. Imagine it: an elf of his station and experience, a Marchwarden of Lórien, reduced to a mere bodyguard, a manservant, forced to stand watch over the Greenwood King as he bathed in one of Lothlórien's many springs. It was a degradation, pure and simple, one he had done nothing to deserve.

What had Celeborn been thinking? Of course, Thranduil was a powerful ally with a notoriously hot temper, but surely there were other ways to win his goodwill, ways that did not require Haldir to stoop to this level. For goodness’ sake, Thranduil had brought half his household with him on this visit; surely there was one among his own retinue who could have taken Haldir's place?

"Haldir is one of our finest and most reliable warriors," Celeborn had said when Thranduil inquired where he might bathe in private. "He will show you to one of our many secluded pools and guard your privacy as you bathe."

"My lord," Haldir began, but he swallowed his words of protest when Celeborn turned stern eyes on him.

"Is there anything you wish to say, Haldir? If there is any reason why you shouldn't be able to accompany our honored guest, by all means, speak." The Lord of Lórien wriggled his eyebrows in such a way that Haldir wisely chose to keep quiet, but happy with his given orders he was not, far from it. As he was about to depart from the hall, Celeborn took him by the arm and murmured into his ear: "I know you think this task unfit for a senior officer, Haldir, but Thranduil will take it as a gesture of respect and appreciate it as such. There is a lot riding on this visit, so do not make me look a fool for singing your praises. Be pleasant company, engage with him and keep him entertained. If you displease him in any way, there will be consequences."

Haldir had gritted his teeth and nodded tersely. Wounded pride or not, he was not in the habit of defying his lord and lady’s orders, so on the way to the pool he did make an effort to initiate a conversation with the Greenwood monarch. "Did you have a pleasant journey, Your Grace?"

"Have you ever spent five days ahorse and called it a pleasant experience?" Thranduil replied in an amused tone. "The journey was bearable at best. Do away with the forced platitudes, Marchwarden; I can tell you are not best pleased with me."

"Your Grace, if I have given offense--"

"Your insincerity is far more likely to give offense than your open displeasure. All day people bow to me, telling me what they think I want to hear. Your half-hearted attempt at small talk is transparent and not at all convincing. Please, don’t insult me by continuing to pretend, for you are spectacularly bad at it.”

Haldir said no more after that, realizing full well that he had acted unprofessionally and so let Lord Celeborn down. He decided to put his pride aside and to accept the situation with humility and grace, but that resolve was severely tested when Thranduil rejected the first and then also the second bathing spot Haldir brought him to. The third and largest pool also received a thorough inspection before Thranduil finally gave his verdict. “Yes, I suppose this is satisfactory.”

Haldir was inwardly seething by this point, and his mood didn’t improve when Thranduil unclasped his robe, took it off and offered it to the Galadhel with one thick eyebrow expectantly raised. It took Haldir a few moments to understand what Thranduil wanted, and he reluctantly lifted his arms for Thranduil to drape his velvet robe over them. The fabric was very fine, and Haldir could not help but feel the warmth of the king’s body lingering inside it. He averted his gaze as the golden-haired ruler removed his knee-high boots and the trousers that fitted his long, muscular legs like a second skin. Even after Thranduil had waded into the water, Haldir continued to stubbornly stare at an undefined point between the surrounding trees.

“You do the silent statue routine very well, Haldir,” Thranduil remarked after a few minutes, a smile in his voice. “In the folds of my robe you will find a small flask of liquid soap. Please be so kind as to bring it to me.”

Suppressing a sigh, Haldir patted the king’s robe until he felt the hard contours of the bottle inside. He draped the robe over a nearby branch and approached the older elf, who stood in the middle of the pool, far beyond Haldir’s reach. This time, the Galadhel did accidentally get an eyeful of Thranduil’s naked body before he remembered to look away, but even that brief glimpse caused his blood to reluctantly stir. He did not wish to feel in any way attracted to this elf on whose account he had suffered such humiliation, but moon and stars, his physique was so stunning, it appeared to have been lovingly assembled and sculpted by a god. His beautifully muscled torso tapered down to a slender waist, narrow hips and round, fleshy buttocks. His hair was exceptionally long, and its pale golden color matched that of the short fuzz at the juncture of his thighs. His sex was just as perfect as the rest of him, and impressively sized even in its flaccid state. Haldir was seized by a sudden craving to see it at full salute, to feel it twitching in the palm of his hand.

Thranduil was unaware of Haldir’s appraisal, or pretended to be. In any case he appeared to be perfectly comfortable where he was, showing no inclination to come closer to shore, and Haldir briefly considered tossing the flask to him, but somehow it seemed inappropriate and wrong to do so. Even in this role of manservant, Haldir’s sense of propriety was strong. “Sire, I cannot reach you.”

“An insignificant problem, and quite easily remedied,” Thranduil said in an almost bored tone, but there was an unspoken challenge in his glittering blue eyes. “Or do Geledhil melt in the water?”

Haldir pulled the rough-spun fabric of his uniform over his head, not stopping to think where this might end. Thranduil was not his king, but his authority was undeniable and Haldir had been trained to obey his superiors’ orders. He left his leggings on, but rolled them up as far as they would go before wading into the pool with the flask in one hand. Just before he reached Thranduil and could hand him the soap, the king turned around and drew his hair to the front, presenting Haldir with a smooth-skinned, muscular back. “Would you oblige me, Haldir? One accumulates so much dust and dirt during five days of traveling, and there are parts of me I just can’t reach.”

“Sire, I am not sure that would be appropriate…”

“My asking makes it appropriate,” Thranduil stated, cutting him short. “I am not used to having to ask the same question twice, Marchwarden. You have already made it very clear that you would rather be somewhere else, but if you try, I’m sure you will discover a pleasurable side to serving me.” As he spoke, Thranduil suddenly reached back and placed his hand on the front of Haldir’s breeches. Even within the confines of the cloth, Haldir’s cock sprang to life immediately, and he gasped for breath when Thranduil’s fingers skillfully traced its curve and rubbed the swelling tip. Shamefully, he even whimpered with disappointment when Thranduil stopped touching him after a few moments. Valar help him, he wanted more of that.

“Go on,” the king said. “Serve me well and you will be richly rewarded, I promise you that.”

Haldir opened the bottle and dribbled some soap into the palm of his hand, adding water to make it foam. On slightly trembling legs, he began to lather Thranduil’s shoulders and back. “Do you reward all your tenders for their services, Sire?”

“Only the attractive brooding ones,” Thranduil replied with a chuckle. “You have strong hands, Marchwarden. I can tell they are used to wielding bow and sword. Did you fight under Amdir’s command at Dagorlad?”

“No, Your Grace. I was too young and inexperienced at the time, and stayed behind to care for my mother and two little brothers. My father marched to Mordor with Amdir and was slain.”

“As was mine.” Thranduil glanced over his shoulder. “I am sorry to hear of your family’s misfortune.”

“There were many deaths to mourn. Few families remained unaffected.” Haldir’s fingers encountered a long, pale scar on Thranduil’s otherwise flawless back. “How did you come by this, Sire?”

“A souvenir of Mordor,” Thranduil replied. “I have been wounded in battle many times, but that day I barely escaped with my life. I was on the ground, bleeding, unable to defend myself. Death was so close that I could feel its cold breath on my skin, but at the last second one of my men came between me and my foe. He shielded me with his own body, took the blow that would have finished me. I would not be here today without him.”

Haldir paused, knowing from experience that these tales of wartime valor seldom ended well. Yet he had to ask. “Did he live?”

Thranduil’s silence was answer enough. “I did not even know his name at the time,” the king mused aloud. “We had never spoken, but he saved my life all the same. For as long as I will live, I will never forget his face, nor the sound of his last breath. He died in my arms, smiling, because he knew that his king lived to fight another day.” Thranduil sighed. “How does one find peace with something like that, Haldir?”

Haldir hesitated, surprised that the older and more experienced elf asked him this, but he gave as honest and as earnest an answer as he could. “Perhaps one never really does.”

They fell silent after that, and Haldir continued to rub Thranduil’s back, finding that he was in fact enjoying the task. The tight ball of annoyance and resentment in his belly had dissipated, replaced by heat and confused lust. He hissed when Thranduil’s hand returned to his crotch, rubbing, teasing and squeezing until sparks of desire ignited a rampant fire in Haldir’s blood. “Thranduil,” he panted, beyond caring if his using the king’s given name was appropriate, “is this wise?”

Rather than answering, Thranduil reached for the laces on Haldir’s leggings, nimbly pulling until they started to come loose. Haldir finished the task himself, crying out when Thranduil’s hand closed around him fully.

“Soap,” Thranduil instructed, taking the flask from Haldir’s hand when the Galadhel was too slow, too dazed to respond. His hand returned slippery and wet, sliding up and down Haldir’s length more easily. Haldir pressed himself against Thranduil’s back, trying to get traction by grabbing his hips. He got soap in his eyes and his mouth when he kissed the spot between Thranduil’s shoulder blades and rubbed his face against the soft skin, but he hardly noticed. The hand around his cock was pumping mercilessly, twisting around the head that was glistening with soap and other juices. Thranduil’s tempting hole was mere inches away, but Haldir did not dare to take the king in that way without a spoken order or invitation. Yet the mere thought of spreading Thranduil’s buttocks and ramming into him tipped him over the edge, and he cried hoarsely as his seed spurted between them.

“Beautiful,” Thranduil murmured, continuing to gently stroke Haldir’s pulsing and twitching cock. “The proud ones never disappoint.”

“Turn around,” Haldir panted, and the Greenwood elf obliged with a little smile.

“What do you want from me, Marchwarden?” Thranduil asked in a teasing tone. “What more can I do to soothe your wounded pride?”

Haldir licked his lips and kissed a path down Thranduil’s chest and stomach as he sank to his knees. His leggings became completely soaked, but it was no longer of any importance. “Watch me,” he murmured, keeping his gaze locked with Thranduil’s as he ran his tongue along the impressive length of his arousal. He did this a few times, licking, worshiping the hot, firm column of flesh and the weeping slit at the top. He tended to the king’s balls as well, flicking them with his tongue and sucking on them until Thranduil moaned his name, but Haldir would not be content until he had him screaming in pleasure. By the stars, what a sweet reward that would be.

He reached between Thranduil’s legs, gently brushing his entrance. “Can I?” he asked, and Thranduil nodded, putting the flask of soap into his hand. He slicked two fingers and began pushing one into Thranduil’s body, moving it about until his lover’s muscles stopped resisting and started welcoming the intrusion. Then he added the other finger, curving them until he found what he was looking for and a long, shuddering moan escaped Thranduil’s lips.

“Please,” the Sinda whispered. “I will not last much longer.”

Haldir nodded and opened his mouth, engulfing the king’s length in one smooth motion. Humming softly, he began to bob his head back and forth, pressing Thranduil’s prostate with every stroke. Their eyes met, and Thranduil reached down to touch Haldir’s bulging cheek, tracing the outline of his erection.

“I like how your lovely mouth looks on my cock, Haldir,” he murmured. Then he groaned. “Gods, I can’t take this, I can’t… I have to move.”

Haldir moaned softly in encouragement, putting his free hand on Thranduil’s hip as he kept his head still, letting the king dictate the pace instead. Thranduil widened his stance even more and leaned down to steady himself on Haldir’s shoulders, thrusting shallowly at first, then gradually harder and faster. Haldir adored it, loved having his mouth fucked with such vigor by this elf, this glorious king, and his mouth watered at the idea of tasting him very soon. He sped up the movements of his fingers, making sure to keep his throat relaxed as Thranduil suddenly stilled.

“Ahhh… gods!” Thranduil called out, his strong fingers pinching Haldir’s shoulders, and the Galadhel moaned as the king’s warm seed filled his mouth and hit the back of his throat. He drank it all down greedily, keeping his lover’s cock in his mouth until it had stopped pulsating and every last drop was spilt. Thranduil was standing spread-legged in the water, sweat beading on his forehead and his flushed, heaving chest. He laughed suddenly.

“I am not sure this is what your noble lord meant when he instructed you to keep me entertained, Haldir,” he said, “but I do appreciate your dedication. I hope I can look forward to more of your… enjoyable company. Visits to Lórien can be such dull affairs, but this time, it promises to be anything but tedious.”

The proud Marchwarden grinned and surprised himself with his answer. “If it pleases Your Grace… I am at your service.”


	2. Chapter 2

After their unexpected but very pleasurable romp, Haldir peeled off his already sodden leggings and followed Thranduil’s example, submerging himself in the cool, clear water. They said very little, but the silence was oddly companionable, considering the fact they were technically strangers to one another. Strangers who had just shared some of the most intimate of acts, yes, but strangers none the less.

Haldir looked over at the Greenwood king, who reclined against a rock and had his eyes closed. His head was tipped slightly back so that his neck was exposed, a smooth expanse of skin that seemed to beg for kisses. Haldir’s gaze traveled further up and lingered on Thranduil’s mouth, which was closed but relaxed. Beauty was not a word the Marchwarden often used in speech or thought, for he thought it trite and overused, but he had to concede that the elf in front of him was nothing if not beautiful, even for elven standards. His clear-cut features were very pleasant to look at, and his entire being spoke of strength and elegance. Haldir felt himself stirring once more when he imagined what those sensually curved lips would feel like, wrapped around his cock.

As if on cue, Thranduil’s eyes opened to gaze directly at Haldir, who grinned self-consciously but did not look away.

“I felt your feverish stare on me, Galadhel,” the king said, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “What impure thoughts are brewing behind those lovely grey eyes?”

“I am not sure that I should say.”

“In that case I insist on knowing.”

Haldir shook his head slightly in amusement. “Do you always get what you want, Sire?”

“I like to think so, yes.” Thranduil sat up a little. “And are we back on the titles now? Just a few minutes ago you called me by my name.”

“That was… wrong. I did it in the heat of the moment.”

“Hmmm. We’ll work on that. But I still have no answer to my question. What were you thinking of?”

“I was… admiring you,” Haldir said truthfully. “One does not often see so alluring a sight as the Greenwood king, naked, within arm’s reach. I was thinking of what just happened, and that I would like it to happen again. I don’t know why you decided to seduce me, but--”

“Why not?” Thranduil interrupted. “You are very fair, Haldir, and you must possess skill and ambition, or you would not have the rank that you do. I find that challenging and highly attractive. Why would I not act on that attraction?”

“You are a king,” Haldir said. “One of the Sindar of Doriath, who once stood in the presence of Elu Thingol. You fought at Dagorlad and came back, you have known the love of a wife and fathered a son. Need I go on?”

“Those are all true facts,” Thranduil said, “yet I fail to see your point. If I were to associate only with those who share the same experiences and forsook everyone else, it would be a lonely existence indeed. Your youth is like a refreshing drink of water for me.”

“I am a Silvan elf of humble origin…”

“As was my beloved wife, and her blood runs in my son’s veins.” Thranduil moved a little closer. “Does the proud Marchwarden think himself unworthy of a king’s attention? You did not seem so unsure when that same king spilled his seed down your throat, Haldir.”

Haldir smiled and blushed a little at that, which was unusual for him. “If that was too bold of me--”

“It was exactly bold enough, one of the most pleasurable experiences I’ve had in quite a while, and one I hope to have again in the very near future.” Thranduil smiled. “You were so delightfully and refreshingly defiant earlier tonight, Haldir; please don’t start groveling now, because that would be very disappointing. Treat me like you would any other lover. That includes calling me by my name when we are alone.”

“I can do that,” Haldir said with a nod. “Thranduil.” The name still felt odd in his mouth, but he supposed it would be even stranger to stay so formal after being so physically unrestrained with each other.

Thranduil smiled contentedly, sliding a little closer still. In his eyes, Haldir saw youthful mischief as well as a deep, age-old understanding of the world, a paradoxical combination that was incredibly alluring. It was those eyes that encouraged Haldir to cross the remaining distance and lean in, seeking Thranduil’s mouth with his own. The first contact was soft, tremulous on Haldir’s part, but the king’s lips parted almost immediately, inviting his tongue into the moist, hot cavern that lay beyond. The fact that Thranduil yielded to him so willingly had Haldir’s heart thumping like a wild thing, and he moaned wantonly into that delicious mouth as they tasted and explored each other for the first time. There was nothing quite so thrilling as a first kiss, and Haldir was quickly losing himself in this one, especially when Thranduil’s fingers came up to caress his ears. Lust spiked in his gut as his ear tips were teasingly rubbed and tweaked, and then Thranduil’s tongue began to push back against his, effectively reversing the roles.

It was the need for air that finally caused them to break apart. For a few moments they gazed at each other, panting and grinning. The kiss left Haldir feeling oddly giddy, and quite daring. “Perhaps we should retire to my talan,” he suggested breathlessly.

“Mmm, indeed we should, and we will. But not yet.” Thranduil smiled, fondling a silver lock of hair that fell across Haldir’s shoulder. “The night is still young, and it needs to be savored. I think the moon herself might be in love with you, Haldir, because your skin in this light looks positively luminous.”

“The moon is a cruel mistress. She appears in the sky every night, showing off her beauty, but none of her admirers can ever reach her.” Haldir leaned in and traced the shell of Thranduil’s ear with his lips. “I prefer a lover I can touch, kiss and share a bed with; a lover who doesn’t fade with the sunrise.”

Thranduil gave a low chuckle, a sound that pulled at the base of Haldir’s spine and fanned the flame of his desire. The Galadhel jumped slightly when a strong hand grabbed his rear and gave it a lazy squeeze. “Give me an order,” Thranduil said in a husky whisper.

Haldir drew back somewhat. “I beg your pardon?”

The older elf leaned down and Haldir felt his teeth at the base of his neck, biting just hard enough to leave a mark. He groaned softly, and Thranduil licked the spot to take away the sting. “Tell me what you would enjoy,” the king murmured, “right here and now. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

Haldir closed his eyes as Thranduil’s mouth worked its magic on his neck. He felt dizzy with lust, his mind reeling as he considered the possibilities. “You will do - ah - anything?”

Thranduil’s hand - the one that wasn’t on Haldir’s buttock - wove into his silver hair and pulled slightly, as if to punish him for the question. “I said so, didn’t I?”

Haldir shifted in the water, trying to get closer to Thranduil and rub against him. Good Valar, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been this aroused. “I- I can think of so many things. I can’t decide which one to choose first.”

Thranduil raised his head, grinning; his eyes were like pale blue flames in the light of the moon. “You are lying through your teeth, melethron. I think you know exactly what you want, but are too shy to say the words. I have lived a long time, Haldir, so nothing you say will shock me. Spit it out.”

“I want…” Haldir bit his lip, panting a little as Thranduil’s long fingers massaged his buttock and teased his cleft. He blurted, “I want to bend you in half and fuck you into the ground. I want my name on your lips when I fill you with my seed.”

The blue flames flickered. “That is quite a gift to ask, Haldir. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I do not share my body with just anyone. Why would I give myself to you in that way?”

“Because you would enjoy it,” Haldir said with a confidence that was not entirely genuine. “I think you crave it, even. You are a widower, a father, a king. You can have anything you want with a snap of your fingers, and yet I think you haven’t been properly fucked in a long time.”

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. “I stand corrected. That _is_ something I haven’t been told before.”

Haldir returned his gaze, heart pounding. “Deny it, then. Tell me that I am wrong.”

Thranduil rose to his feet abruptly, rivulets of water streaming down his body. He stood, arms alongside his body, cock almost fully hard, and Haldir wasn’t sure if he was being dared to look at or away from him. He looked, of course. How could he not?

“You better have the skill to back up those bold words, Haldir,” Thranduil said slowly.

Haldir moved closer, his eyes on the prize between the Sinda’s legs. “I thought I had already given you a demonstration of my abilities.” He licked the head of that proud length of flesh to remind him, and felt it twitch in response.

Thranduil smiled. “Aye, that you have. But it takes more than just a skillful mouth for me to spread my legs.”

“You said you would do whatever I asked.” Haldir got up also. They were almost equally tall, and Haldir was sure that they were equally strong-willed as well. He enjoyed that; he enjoyed the challenge that was Thranduil. “I suppose a king’s word isn’t worth that much, after all.”

Thranduil tipped his head back and laughed-- a pleasant sound that warmed Haldir on the inside like a swig of spiced wine on a winter night. It was intoxicating, like the king’s whole being was intoxicating, and Haldir knew that the morning would find him dead drunk but happy.

“Very well, Haldir.” Still chuckling, Thranduil took him by the arm and turned to shore. “You are cocky, which I admire. Let us find out if your prowess justifies such confidence.”


End file.
